Thursday was our last full day in Maine, and it was Mer’s day. We had arranged to go to Julie and Paul’s house in Brunswick in the evening for supper. Add to that the fact that my wife likes to see everything, and I figured out, when we were still twenty minutes outside of Brunswick, that we were headed back to Brunswick, to take and finish the campus tour of Bowdoin College .

The tour group looked to be huge, with forty or more people, and I was not looking forward to it. Happily, there were three tour guides, and so the groups split into smaller groups of twelve to fifteen, and each person could choose a guide. Mer, not surprisingly, gravitated toward an English major. We toured around the main quad of Bowdoin, with the guide pointing out various dorms and various department buildings. We went into a science building, and into the student union/fitness center. The fitness center was a gift from the guy who founded Subway restaurants, who had graduated from Bowdoin with a physics major. Mer wanted to know when I was going to found a multi-million-dollar business with my physics degree. The tour lasted about ninety minutes, and we came away with the impression that Bowdoin was very similar to our college, Middlebury College (except we both think Middlebury is prettier).

After the college tour, we drove a very short distance to the center of town, to the Skofield-Whittier House. The house is a Victorian-style house that is now owned my the Pejepscot Historical Society. It had been built by a sea captain who had done well, and handed down through a couple of generations. In the 1930s the last of the family, a young woman, left the house with everything inside, and eventually gave it to the historical society to keep up. As such, many of the furnishings date to 1900 or even before, and the house is in pretty good shape, although the historical society is small enough that upkeep on the house is an ongoing task.

Our tour was excellent. It was just Mer and I and our tour guide. We were taken all around the house and told its history, and I saw at least one newspaper on a cupboard that had a headline about Nixon (the last woman who owned the place did come back from time to time, but changed nothing in the house). It was interesting to see various appliances from the 1920s and 1930s, and the house itself is very pretty.

After we finished the tour, which took about an hour or a little more, we drove over to see if we could tour the Brunswick Naval Air Station, a major air field for the Navy. We got there only to discover that the base had closed (in 2011, it turns out, with the last flight in 2009). It is now open as a civilian airport, but there did not seem to be much to see, and no way of knowing any of the history of the base. So, we moved on.

We headed south toward the ocean and a number of scenic islands that are joined to the main (Maine) land by small bridges.We crossed over Great Island to Orr’s Island, all the way to Bailey’s Island to where the road stops (a gift store called Land’s End). We got out of the car to look around briefly on each of the islands, and wandered around quite a bit on Bailey’s Island. The bridge from Orr’s Island to Bailey’s Island was worth stopping to see. It is a cribstone bridge, which is a bunch of granite blocks just lying on top of each other in a grid pattern. It is the only working bridge of its kind in the world.

We drove back to Brunswick to Julie and Paul’s house, where they had supper waiting. We had a good supper of corn on the cob and chicken, and then we sat in their backyard and chatted. It was a fine evening, and it was a good night to sit out. Julie and Paul’s daughters needed to get ready for bed before the sun set, so we left while we still had some daylight. We decided to use it, and Mer had me drive south to South Harpswell to a peninsula, all the way to where the road ended, with a fine view of the ocean. The sun was not quite ready to set, but it was still very pretty. We did not linger too long, as we had a ninety-minute drive back to Dad’s place, and a start to the long drive back home on Friday. The relaxed evening was a good way to end our vacation.

Mer did arrange to have dinner with her friend Julie and her family, on Thursday. So, we swapped days so that Wednesday was “my” day. I wanted to take a hike, but several of the hikes I looked at were either very difficult, or very far away. After a little online research, I found out that the southern coastal town of Oqunquit had a mile-and-a-quarter-long paved trail called “The Marginal Way” that was right on the ocean. In addition, the town was supposed to be charming, so I settled on Oqunquit as our destination for the day.

Oqunquit is very far south in Maine, only a few miles from New Hampshire, and a good thirty or more miles south of Portland. It is on Route 1, and is very much a tourist-driven town. We got there late morning, and found a good municipal parking lot to park in, near the center of town and very close to the beach. Food seemed like a good first order of the day, so we wandered toward one of the main streets and found a restaurant called The Wild Blueberry. We were both in the mood for breakfast, so it seemed a good pick. For some odd reason, Oqunquit has a town law forbidding restaurants from serving guests on their decks, so we had to eat inside, even though it was a beautiful day. The food was good, albeit about fifty percent more expensive than it should have been, but that is the cost of eating in a tourist town.

After breakfast, we walked over to the Marginal Way path. Once we got to the ocean, I was shocked at what I saw. From the start of the walkway, you could see Oqunquit’s beach. I had no idea that Maine had such beaches. Most of Maine’s coast (and many of the lake shores) is all rock, with little or no sand. Oqunquit had a huge sandy beach that ran north to the town of Wells, where the beach continued. In fact, Oqunquit’s beach was a small island joined to the town by a small bridge, so the beach actually wrapped around the southern part of the island. Even though there were lots of people on the beach, the beach was so large it did not appear crowded. I was amazed.

The Marginal Way itself was no less a happy find. It wound along a rocky section of coast that had a couple of very small beaches along the way. The path itself was very easy since it was paved, and it climbed gently to a high point that had a good view. The rocks of the coast were immediately accessible from the path, so Mer and I clambered around a few rocks. There were many small hotels and rental beach houses facing up against the path, but there were also some very beautiful private homes that commanded spectacular views of the coast. The path ended (going south) in a little coastal grove of trees, and finally in a parking lot with a few restaurants about. Mer and I walked it to the southern end, and then returned the way we came, taking a short detour to explore one of the mini-beaches, where we both waded into the fairly cold Maine ocean.

Once we got back to the northern end of the trail, we walked a block through town and took a footpath and bridge over to the main road bridge that led to the island-beach. The beach is very low-lying, so that I think much of it must disappear at high tide. The sand goes out very gently, as far as I could tell. Mer waded in the ocean again since she always wears easy-off sandals. By then, it was late in the afternoon, so we headed back to the car and started heading back north along Route 1.

On the way into town we had seen an ice cream stand called Sundaes on the Beach, and we decided to stop there on the way out of town. Sundaes on the Beach has an interesting business model: you order your ice cream, and then you can top in any way you like from a small but good sundae bar. We had seen similar places that worked with yogurt, but never anywhere that used ice cream instead. We were both pretty pleased by the concept, and we were happy to have stopped. After our snack-break, we headed back home.

On Tuesday, early in the morning, I drove up to Augusta to take advantage of their paved running/biking path that runs along the river south for 6.5 miles. By running a short section of the path twice, I was able to take advantage of the wonderfully cool weather and run about fifteen miles. The biggest issue was the small, rolling hills along the path. By the time I got back to the car, my hamstrings were in a fair amount of pain.

Once I got back to the house and Mer and I got ready for the day, we jumped in the car and took a winding and scenic route south and west to the the New Hampshire border, to the town of Fryeburg, Maine. Fryeburg is best known for its fair in the fall, having the second biggest fair in New England, after the one outside of Boston. It’s an odd place for a huge fair, since the town only has a few thousand people, but that is what it is known for.

We were there because I wanted a scenic drive, but also because the town had a company that offered kayak rentals to paddle on the shallow and slow Saco River. It seemed like an ideal place to try kayaking. Before the big river adventure, we ate at one of the three restaurants we could find in town, the Fryeburg House of Pizza and Family Restaurant. The food was decent, although the air conditioning was cranked to an uncomfortable level, even for me.

On the way back to the kayak place, we stopped briefly to check out Fryeburg Academy, a private high school with a dorm option for out-of-town students. It was very pretty, with several brick buildings and large athletic fields. I later looked up tuition, and decided that forty thousand dollars a year (for boarding students) should buy some scenic views.

The kayak folks did have a kayak for us, so we opted for the shortest trip, a ninety-minute excursion down the river to a landing where the company would pick us up. We had a tandem (two-person) kayak, with Mer in the front and me in the back. We felt comfortable in the boat right away as far as stability, and as the river was never deeper than three or four feet, we felt quite safe. Most of the time, the river was only about a foot deep, with a sandy bottom, so it really was a  perfect place to try kayaking.

The day was fine, and the river pretty. The only frustration we had was that our kayak did not steer well. We had always seen that kayaks would turn away from the side you paddled on. So, if you paddled on the right-hand side, the kayak would go slightly left. For whatever reason, our kayak would do that occasionally, but more often it would turn toward the rowing side. Even when we tried correcting for this by rowing on both sides, we never did get the kayak to go where we wanted it without my dragging my paddle in the water as a break. We will need to try kayaking again sometime to see if it was just that particular kayak.

Despite the steering issues, the trip was worthwhile because of the surroundings. We often chose to drift to enjoy the river, and while there were people about on and in the river enjoying it, we often had stretches of the river to ourselves. We made it to the landing in about seventy-five minutes, and by luck the company was there picking up some other people, so we did not have to wait.

Once we got back to the car, I decided to drive north to Bethel, Maine, as that would take us through the White Mountain National Forest. What an incredible drive. The forest was very dense on both sides, and the road wound up into the western Maine mountains. We even zigzagged into New Hampshire a few times. It was the prettiest place I saw inland on this trip to Maine.

Once we got to Bethel, we drove back through Rumford and on to Jay, and back through Livermore Falls, back to Dad’s. At least I figured out how to steer the car.

Monday was Mer’s day, and she pointed us toward the Augusta area, where we jumped on Route 24, which is a scenic drive alongside the Kennebec River. We headed south along the road, and she gave me leave to take any little side roads that I wanted to take, so in general I tried to take small roads that would keep us as close to the river as possible, since I figured that would be the most scenic.

We did stop in the small riverside town of Richmond. Richmond is an interesting little town in that it has a beautiful situation. The river runs alongside the town, and the main shopping street is on a hill overlooking the river. Mid-river is the nature reserve Swan Island, which I was very excited about. It turns out you can get a boat over to Swan Island, but you need to make reservations. That may be in the plans for next summer. Anyway, the town has these wonderful advantages, and the main street is cute, but there are also several buildings either empty and/or in disrepair. It seems as if the town cannot quite make out if it is succeeding or starting to decline. I hope it makes it, as it has a lot of promise.

We continued our scenic drive south, and finally ended up in the town of Brunswick. One of Mer’s college friends, Julie, lives there with her husband and two daughters. Julie’s husband, Paul, owns a cafe in Brunswick called The Little Dog (Paul and Julie indeed have a well-behaved little dog). Mer wanted to see if they were home, but first we had lunch in The Little Dog. Monday was Paul’s day off, so he was not there, but the food and hot chocolate were excellent, and we got to eat outside on the sidewalk, which Mer always enjoys.

On the way back to the car, we noticed a gelato (Italian ice cream) store that we had never seen before. It was called Gelato Fiasco, and we decided to check it out. They had the real-deal Italian ice cream (sometimes places just call themselves a gelato store to sound pretentious, when they really sell normal ice cream). Gelato is denser and more flavorful than standard ice cream, and is always served in much smaller quantities. Gelato Fiasco made their own gelato, and they had tons of flavors. Mer and I were both excited that they offered cookie sandwiches made from huge chocolate chip cookies stuffed with your choice of gelato. We each got one and ate those out on the sidewalk as well. It was a rather grand lunch, in all.

After lunch, we went over to Paul and Julie’s house, but no one was home. We decided we would take a walking tour of nearby Bowdoin College to pass some time, and try back later. So, we left the car on the street and walked over to Bowdoin, where Mer wanted to find the Admissions Office to see if we could get a tour. We found the office, but had missed the most recent guided tour, so we took a self-guided tour booklet and started off. We did not get very far, as the second building we came to was the library. It turns out that both the poet Longfellow and the author Hawthorne had graduated from Bowdoin in 1825, and the college library had original documents from both authors. We decided we had to try to check those out, and so we went up to the special collections area of the library on the third floor. The librarians were very helpful, and after we filled out a short form, they went to pull some items from their collection. In the meantime, I checked out a display case that had some letters and other items that had belonged to Joshua Chamberlain, a Civil War hero, Bowdoin College president, and former governor of Maine. I especially enjoyed reading a short letter Chamberlain wrote to his wife when he thought he was dying from wounds he had received. It was eloquent and touching, and happily, Chamberlain survived his wounds.

The librarians brought up some items from special collections. They included a handwritten copy of Longfellow’s poem “Excelsior!” and a letter to his sister. From Hawthorne, they brought us his well-marked copy of Bowdoin College’s rules for 1824 and a first edition of The Scarlet Letter. It is amazing that they let us handle these; the letters from Longfellow were in plastic sleeves, but the Hawthorne items were not. Hawthorne’s copy of the rules was interesting in that the covers were filled with his practicing his signature. I’m not sure why, but that is what was scrawled all over it.

We went back to Julie and Paul’s house after we left the library, and Paul was home with one of his daughters. He kindly let us in, and we visited for about a half hour before Julie came home. Julie had to walk their dog, so we joined Julie and the other daughter (who had not been home with Paul) for a walk along Bowdoin’s athletic fields, which included a wonderful path through the woods. I love walking while talking, and the woods were pretty as well as cool from all of the shade. The walk lasted over half an hour, and Julie and Paul encouraged us to come back for supper later in the week if we were able to.

We head back to Dad’s, and found that Kellee had used a gift certificate she had received at Christmas to buy us each two different kinds of whoopie pies. We ate them both, after supper, while watching episodes of The Big Bang Theory, which we had brought with us. I’m not sure we needed more food, but they were very good, including an unusual peanut butter whoopie pie that was made with cookie ends instead of the standard cake ends. While the purist might wince at that, it was pretty darn good.

Sunday was the day we had scheduled to head over to my Dad’s place in East Livermore, about ninety minutes from Rockland. We did get to start the day off with church, with Carleton at his church, which was a good way to start the day. After church, we all went to the Offshore Restaurant, where we had lunch. After lunch, it was time to go back to the house and pack up, which always seems to take awhile. I’m always amazed at how much stuff we bring along in the car, but I’d rather have it with me than miss it during vacation.

The trip out to East Livermore was uneventful, except I got stuck in the wrong lane in the first rotary in Augusta, so Mer got to hear my rotary rant for several minutes. She is a patient soul. Dad was actually over at a friend’s house helping him with a project when we got there, but my stepmother Kellee was home, so we unpacked and visited with her. Dad got home just as I was getting the grill going with chicken, and so we were able to have supper together.

Dad had received a DVD called Conscientious Objector from someone (he did not know who sent it to him), so we watched that together. The film was a documentary about a WW 2 medic who was a committed Seventh Day Adventist, and as such refused to carry any weapon. It told about all the grief he got during training and his early deployment, but he stood by his beliefs. The men in his unit were won over when they saw how dedicated he was to going into dangerous situations to rescue and treat wounded men. He exposed himself to intense danger during the battle for Okinawa, staying on top of a defenseless ridge for twelve hours to rescue wounded men. For that heroism, he won the Medal of Honor. It was an excellent film, and was, to me, a great reminder of how God can help those who stand by their faith. Mer joined us for about the last third, and she was impressed as well.

After the film was done, we said goodnight to Dad and headed downstairs to the guest bedroom, where we went to bed. Even though Dad’s place is inland, we were still able to leave the widow open for fresh air, and needed a blanket, as it got quite cool overnight.

Saturday was back to being Mer’s day, and she wanted to start the day locally. We drove the short distance to the Rockland Lighthouse Museum, where we started in the gift shop reading a children’s book about a Maine Coon cat who wanted a home and love. After we finished reading it, Mer went to the bathroom to clean up her face from her tears, and then we went into the museum itself.

The Lighthouse Museum is contained in two rooms: one normal-sized room where they show a video on lighthouses, and present displays with the history of the government agencies who had supervision of lighthouses, and one very large room that contains everything else. The larger room focuses on the life of lighthouse keepers (summary: it was difficult and lonely), and has many lenses from lighthouses. They have displays on the evolution of the technology of lights and fog bells/horns, and have an extensive display on the rescue services of the early-to-mid-twentieth century. We were able to do the entire museum in about two hours, and it was an interesting and well-done museum.

From the museum, we drove directly to Mer’s cousin’s house in Thomaston. Dana and her husband Dale were hosting the family Fourth of July picnic, albeit a few days late. There were about twenty people there, including friends of Dana and Dale, as well as family members that I knew. Dale had cooked up a ton of food on his grill, and so we grabbed chairs and ate too much while chatting with various folks. It was a pleasant day, in the shade, and we were there for over two hours before Mer announced we should move on to the the next destination.

We drove over to Damariscotta, another coastal town Mer had never been in, and we walked around the main street and down to the harbor. We strolled along one side street as well, where there were some very pretty seaside homes. Damariscotta is not too large, so we were only there for a fairly short time before we drove over to nearby Damariscotta Mills.

Damariscotta Mills has no downtown that I saw. What it does have is water. It has a freshwater lake, a very cool fish ladder made of stone, and a large lake/bay that connects to the ocean. I’m not sure how much of the large lake is fresh water and how much is salt water. We drove around for several minutes trying to find a parking space so we could get out to check out the fish ladder and the upper lake, and we finally settled on parking in a parking lot at the bottom of the fish ladder, even though there were not other cars there. It turned out the lot was owned by the city or the state, and was okay to park in; people just did not park there because it requires you to walk a ways to get to the lake.

We walked over to and along the fish ladder as best we could. Much of the ladder is on private property, so you can see it, but not get close to it. A fish ladder sounds dull, but this one is very pretty; it is made of stone, and twists back and forth as it comes down the hill. We got an excellent and close look at the top and bottom, and could see most of it from the road that led to the upper lake.

The upper lake had a swimming hole, and it was popular, from the looks of things. It had a bridge to jump from, and lots of trees for shade. In good Maine tradition, there was no real beach – just rocks and some patches of lawn, but it was still a good spot for swimming. Mer had a schedule in mind, so we did not linger long at the lake, and returned to the car by the way we had come. As we approached the very bottom of the fish ladder, there was a huge splash from the stream next to us and something huge caught my eye. I was startled, to say the least, and just made out the tail of a seal as he swam into the larger lake. Mer was sad she missed him, but she did get to see his head poke up in the lake as we drove away. I’m sad we did not see him as we came down the path, but I was not exactly looking for wildlife that close to a parking lot.

We headed over to the coastal town of Port Clyde, where Mer had arranged for us to have a sunset cruise on the Monhegan mail-run boat. The boat is used to ferry mail and passengers to Monhegan Island, but they also do pleasure cruises. The sunset cruise also promised to try to see puffins, a surprisingly small seabird that nests near Port Clyde.

The boat was a good-sized wooden boat that dated back to World War 2. It had some function in the Philippines, but I forget exactly what its role was. Mer and I got to sit in the prow, so we had a great view. There was only the crew (three people) and one other couple on board, and the other (very young) couple seemed to know the crew, so we were pretty much the focus of the crew and the on-board commentary. It was pretty much a private crew. I’m sure the crew lost money on us, but we had a great time, and they were very friendly the entire trip.

The cruise lasted a little over two hours, and it was lovely. The sun was warm, but the sea air was cool, so I was comfortable, although Mer had to put on a jacket once the sun went down. We saw several small islands where fairly rich people had built  homes, including the Wyeth family of painting fame. The focus of the trip, aside from the sunset (which was spectacular), was wildlife. We went out to a nesting island for many seabirds, and circled it several times. We did get to see puffins, as well as gulls and cormorants, and a small rock island filled with seals. On the way back from the island, we saw two porpoises. We were also passed by a party boat full of people, some of whom took the time to moon us, which was amusing since the captain of our boat called it before the boat came near us. We did get to see two lighthouses, and the crew had hoped we would see a couple of eagles, but they did not make an appearance for us.

It was a peaceful and lovely ride. The sunset was amazing, and as an added bonus, we saw a few distant fireworks from shore. If anyone ever gets to the coastal area of Maine, I can heartily recommend the Monhegan boat line cruises.

Thursday was Mer’s day again, and she had a busy little day planned. We started off by going back to Thomaston to go back over the various “Museum in the Streets” placards that we had missed. We got a brochure on the location of all the signs from the local town office, and we set off, starting on the far end of Route 1 and working our way back into town back toward the old prison site. When we made it back to the middle of town, we stopped at an excellent bakery to have a piece of cookie cake, and I had a hot chocolate. Thus fortified, we finished the tour, some of which was not easy. Sometimes signs were behind trees or on the corner of buildings, but to the best of our knowledge, we found them all.

The last signs were out by the old prison site where we had been on Tuesday. We crossed the street to look for a woods trail that was supposed to be there. We did find it, but it clearly has not been used too much – it is narrow and grown over. We tried to walk it, but gave up and returned after just a few minutes. There were several boggy sections that were muddy, and the bugs were out in force. We walked back to town and to the car, and drove on to the next destination.

Mer had never been to Friendship, Maine, before, so that was our next stop. Friendship is a tiny little fishing village that is known for one thing  – being the birthplace of the Friendship sloop. A sloop is a type of sailing vessel, and a boat builder in Friendship back before 1900 figured out how to build several boats per year (instead of the usual one boat per year), and that made his sloop more popular and affordable. We learned much of this from a very small but interesting museum in Friendship housed in the old one-room schoolhouse. It seems as if most of the one-room schoolhouses in Maine now house a local historical society. The lady staffing the place was very friendly, and when we were done with the museum, she told us how we could drive down to the ocean to see Friendship’s harbor.

Once we finished our Friendship tour, Mer had me drive to Union. Union is another town we had not seen before, other than to see from a nearby major road. Union is a very cute inland town, in the midst of hills and lakes. We drove over to the fairgrounds, to go see the Matthews Museum. The Matthews Museum is a large and eclectic collection of lots of objects. Most of them are farm-related or home-related, but the museum also had motors and old wind-up record players and horse-drawn buggies and sleighs, and more. We were both amazed at how large the place was. There is even a one-room schoolhouse still set up as it would have been when used up until the 1950s. The museum is named after the man who started it by donating his collection of stuff, which was large enough to start a museum. The museum even has one large room dedicated to the Maine soft drink of Moxie, including a wooden bottle of Moxie that is about thirty feet tall and used to be lived in as a bedroom for two children. It’s a strange place to browse, and interesting. We caught the museum on its opening day for the season, so we had the place more or less to ourselves, except for the three or four volunteers who were there setting up. We did not even come close to seeing everything in the two hours we spent there before they closed.

We went home and invited Carleton to supper, but he had already eaten. We headed over to Moody’s Diner in Waldoboro. We like Moody’s for their normal food, which is excellent (and they have the Maine tradition of calling shakes frappes, which is fun). The real treat of Moody’s, though, is that they have some of the best whoopie pies in the state. After we had supper, we grabbed four (including one for Carleton) and brought them home.

We had one more outing for the evening. We headed back to Thomaston to see their fireworks. The fireworks had been postponed for a night because of  fog, but this evening was fine, so we parked just outside of town at the Montpelier mansion, which is built on a hill. We tried to sit outside, but the bugs were bad, so we retreated to the car. To pass the time, I asked Mer questions from a game about books, and so we did not feel the wait too badly.

When the fireworks started, we tried another spot outside the car, but it too was buggy. We finally found that standing on the side of the road in front of our car was not too bad, so we did that for most of the show. We were lower down on the hill, so we did miss some of the lowest fireworks, which were obscured by the nearby trees. Still, we could see pretty well. The fireworks were mostly good, but the spacing and frequency was strange. I kept thinking the show was over because there would be pauses of thirty to forty-five seconds when there were no fireworks. There were at least three times when the show looked like a climax with many fireworks going off, and even after the finale and when we were getting back in the car, a few more isolated fireworks went off. It was a bit odd, but still a good show on the whole. We drove back to Rockland and to bed.

Friday was my day, and I had seen signs advertising a schooner race that started at the breakwater in Rockland. I had never seen a sailing race before, so I very much wanted to see it. Mer and I tromped out to the end of the almost-mile-long breakwater, all the while admiring the many boats sailing around the inside of the harbor. There were smaller ships with one mast, larger ships with two masts, and the Victory Chimes, a three-masted master-of-ceremonies ship. They were very pretty.

The start of the race was relaxed, and the ships set out based on class. As such, Mer and I were out on the breakwater for about an hour and a half. It was a pretty day, and there were a lot of people about, so it all felt very festive. As we were leaving, we could see a long line of sailing ships heading north toward Camden.

When we got back to the house, we invited Carleton to go over to the nearby Owl’s Head general store, to get their award-winning hamburgers. We got them to go, and took then over to the Owl’s Head lighthouse park, where we set up chairs and looked out over the ocean while a wonderful breeze blew in. It was a beautiful spot, and we took our time eating.

After lunch, we went back to the house, where Mer and I got our car and headed up to Camden. On Fridays in Camden, the library and the Chamber of Commerce offer free guided walking tours of Camden. We met the guide and his understudy at the library, and they took us around, just the two of us. We had a private walking tour! That was pretty great. We learned about Camden’s library, natural amphitheater, and seaside park and how they had been designed and cared for. The amphitheater is very close to obtaining a National Landmark designation. We took our time walking around, and after the seaside park we walked back up to the main street, where we learned about the woolen factories and grist mills that used to be on the river. The tour ended at the opera house, which is usually included in the tour, but was sadly closed by he time we got there. In all, the tour lasted about an hour and a half.

Mer and I took the recommendations of the tour guides and tried a new bakery in town, for a snack and a chance to get off of our feet. The place was very pleasant, and the baked goods we had were quite welcome. It seemed a fitting end to the tour of Camden.

Finally, in the evening, Mer and I walked to the far end of Rockland, to the Rockland Sail, Power, and Steam Museum. The museum looks very interesting and I hope to get back to it, but on this evening, we were there to hear a lecture on the maritime quest for a reliable way to calculate longitude. You can get latitude from sighting stars, but to calculate longitude, you need a reliable means of keeping track of time, either by a clock or by an astronomical means. It took a very long time to come up with a good clock that would work on board a ship, but a Yorkshireman named Harrison did it after over twenty years of trying. It was an interesting talk, and we got the bonus of having a pleasant evening walk back to the house.

Tuesday (the 3rd) was our first full day in Rockland, and it was an odd little day. I went for an early morning run of about six miles, and then I got ready for the day. Since Mer was still getting ready, I took the car to a garage, where they very kindly looked at it within the hour. The car had been making a metallic sound when in motion, and it had gotten worse on the trip into Maine. I was afraid it might be a ball joint since my normal mechanic has been keeping his eye on one of them, so I wanted it checked out immediately. It turned out to be that we had badly worn front brakes, and the garage said they would replace them and it would take a couple of hours.

So, I walked back to the house and met up with the now-ready-to-go Mer, who wanted to walk downtown. We wandered along the water, and stopped briefly at the St. George’s Valley River Trust building for some maps, and then on the other end of town, we stopped in at the Lighthouse Museum so Mer could pick up a brochure on kayaking, something I had always wanted to try. Since we were near the south end of the main street area, we walked over to the nearby garage, where the car was ready. It was not a cheap repair ($350), but it let me rest easier about all of the driving we would be doing over vacation.

We drove back to the house, where we met up with Carleton. Carleton had offered to take us out to lunch at the swanky seaside Samoset Resort. We love eating on the patio there, since it is beautiful and in the shade, so we were very pleased to eat there. Carleton drove us over (it is only about two miles), and we had a wonderful lunch looking at the ocean and talking with each other. It was a pretty perfect lunch.

After lunch, we went back to the house, where we picked up our own car. Following one of the maps we had picked up, Mer directed me to drive to nearby South Thomaston, where we pulled off the road to see the tidal marsh that is there. It is very large, and quite pretty, although there are no paths in the marsh to wander on, since it is a tidal marsh and any path would be flooded on a regualr basis.

We then drove on to the small village of Tenants Harbor. We walked down to the small harbor, and then walked up to the tiny library to ask for directions to the cemetery, which is what we wanted to see. Touring cemeteries is maybe a bit creepy, but especially near the coast and near mountains, cemeteries always seem to be in very pretty places. I also comfort myself since I would want people to enjoy the park-like atmosphere of any cemetery I might be buried in, as long as they were respectful. Anyway, we walked the mile or so to the cemetery, and it was pretty. Again, as seems to be the case with old Maine cemeteries, all of the people buried there either died very young (before forty) or died very old (older than eighty-five), even in the early 1900s. There was a small point of land in the cemetery that had a small bench that overlooked the harbor, and we sat there for awhile before heading back to the car.

The last stop of the day was in the town of Thomaston. Mer had a map for the St. Geroge’s River “river walk” which took you through the town, highlighting historical areas of the town as they pertained to its shipping past. We started at the site of the old Maine State Prison, which was torn down in 2002, and is now a large, open field and park. The old prison site has a commanding view of the river, and was a great place to start the walk. Thomaston has about thirty signs up throughout the town that point out historical buildings or events, so we stopped whenever we came across one of these.

The walk took us along the prison site, and then along back streets of the town, where we had never been before. The houses were very beautiful, and some, that used to belong to successful captains, were quite large. The walk curved us back through the neighborhoods back to the river and the small harbor. There we bumped into a lady who was a member of the historical society, and who very kindly told us about some of the history of shipbuilding and the harbor and the town. From the harbor, the walk returned us to the prison field and to our car, and so we headed home.

Wednesday was the Fourth of July, and I had hoped to be in Rockland for the Fourth so I could run in the nearby Thomaston Firecracker 5k race. Mer’s cousin’s husband, Jon, was also running in it, so Carleton was pretty excited to see us both run.

The day was not too warm, but it was humid, and it sprinkled a bit. I got in line to sign up for the race, and then realized I was in the women’s line, so I switched over. Jon was a few spots ahead. The volunteer-run race ran out of bibs from a larger-than-expected turnout, so they gave me a number on a piece of paper. That was fine, as long as it could hold up through the race, which it did.The race had a kids’ fun run at 8:00, and we started more or less on time at 8:30.

I was hopeful for this race. Although it was humid, I was only a month or so removed from running a full marathon. The course was hilly, but I had been doing hill training recently, so that was good. Also, I had run a half-marathon last fall at under seven minutes/mile, so my goal was to be under twenty-one minutes for the race. I started out with a very strong pace, and quickly found myself near the front. I passed a few people and settled into a slot where the man ahead of me was too far ahead to catch, but I was also determined not to be passed. I did walk for a few seconds at the turnaround, where I grabbed some water, but I did not give up my spot in the race. I had to keep talking myself through the hills, but I finished with a strong pace, and to my delight, I came in 6th out of 188 runners, with a personal-best (post-college, since I do not know what I ran in college or high school) time of 19:34, or a 6:19/mile pace. I beat my old best time by one second, but given the hills on the course, I was really happy.

I also thought I might win my age group, but Mer warned me that the guy who came in fifth looked to be an older runner. We were sticking around for brunch at the Thomaston Cafe anyway, so Mer and I hung out to see the awards ceremony. They had a leader board, and to my great delight, my name was on it for my age group (forty to forty-nine years old). They were just about to hand out awards when someone came up and took my name down and put up the name of the forty-seven-year-old man who had come in fifth. Easy come, easy go.

Jon had done quite well in the race as well, coming in in the top quarter of all runners. We joined Jon and his wife Tracy and their two small children, along with Carleton and his great-grandson Logan, for brunch at the Thomaston Cafe, which was mobbed. It took a long while to get a seat, which was when Mer and I were waiting to see if I won my age group in the race. We did finally get seated, and ordered. I expect the staff was frazzled, as my hot chocolate was tepid at best, and Tracy’s pancakes were not cooked all the way through. Usually the Cafe has excellent food, so I wrote it off to the hectic morning.

We finished breakfast just in time to go claim seats for the parade. We sat with a huge group of people on some lawn on the side of the road. It appeared the houses on the main road allowed it, and that was very good of the owners. Carleton had brought some chairs, so he and Tracy and Mer were all able to sit, while Jon took the older of the two kids to see if she could catch some candy that was thrown from some floats.

The parade got off to an uneven start. The parade started with the Thomaston fire department, and that was great; however, they got ahead of the next group of people, who were dressed as Civil War-era soldiers who stopped every hundred yards or so to fire their rifles, and then reload. After they passed by, the rest of the parade flowed well. There were a couple of bands playing from flatbed trucks, some cheerleaders, lots of political marchers and floats, and a few beauty pageant winners, and the parade ended with the fire departments from all the small towns around Thomaston. It was a nice little parade, and a good way to spend the Fourth.

After the parade, I went home and showered and then took a nap. Since I was in charge for the day, I decided to head up Route 1 and see what could be seen. We drove for almost an hour north when we came around a corner and saw a sign for the Penobscot River Narrows Bridge. I was very excited. My brother Shannon had told me about visiting the bridge, and I had wanted to see it since that time. We came around another corner and had a great full view of the bridge, and it really is an amazing design. We stopped and took pictures, and then drove on so that we could go up in the observation tower.

The observation tower is part of a larger park that includes Maine’s non-gold-containing Fort Knox, and the fort was open to tour with the admission to the tower. That was unexpected and quite welcome. We started with the bridge to make sure we had the leisure to take our time. The new bridge across the narrows replaced the still-standing older bridge next to it. The old bridge had been inspected in the early 2000s and was found to be corroded past repairing. So, a new bridge was designed and built in just forty months, with the new bridge being built from both sides of the river and meeting in the middle. That was pretty cool. The new bridge’s cables are housed in tubes so the cables can be replaced individually as needed, and they are even experimenting with cables made from carbon fiber. The whole cable system is kept under pressure from nitrogen gas so that the engineers can tell immediately if an individual tube has been breached by the weather.

The observation tower is in one of the two towers that hold up the bridge, and is 420 feet above the river. It is the only bridge observatory in the United States. Mer and I made our way to the elevator, which takes you up to near the top. To get to the real observation tower you had to climb two flights of stairs in order to clear the elevator shaft. It is quite a view, and since I am scared of heights, I fluctuated from being scarred to being uncomfortable and back again. I sat down on the floor at Mer’s suggestion, and that helped, but I was still only able to stay up there for a few minutes. Mer stayed a bit longer, and then joined me on the ground, where we talked with a volunteer about the bridge.

Having seen the bridge, I was very pleased to turn my exploring attentions to the fort. The fort highly recommended flashlights, which I took to be an excellent sign. Happily, I carry four in Mer’s car, and two of them still worked. The fort is just open for people to explore, and I’m guessing there were only about twenty people in the whole place, so we had much of the fort to ourselves.

It was really cool. There are long hallways at the front of the fort that are dim and have no access except at the ends. There are still rooms for canon, and the roof was built for canon as well, and the roof is reached by a spiral staircase. There are tunnels that lead to the outer defenses, and there are still a few canon in place for educational purposes. Plus, the fort has a wonderful view of the Penobscot River. The fort was never quite finished and never used, but it is still a great place to explore. We spent a couple of hours there, closing the place out.

At that point, since we still had over an hour drive ahead of us, I decided to go back home. We stopped back in Rockland to pick up supper at the Rockland Cafe, where we also picked up our first Maine whoopie pies, a dessert that I grew up on.

It was a very good start to the Maine vacation!

Breakfast was at 9:00 in the B and B, but we were up before that and able to do morning devotions and readings on our private back porch in the cool morning air. It was quite wonderful. Breakfast itself was an informal meal in the kitchen, since there were only Mer and I and one other guest in the B and B that morning. Breakfast was a delicious French toast bake. After breakfast, we took our time packing up, and so we did not get on the road until about 11:00. We stuck to our plan of taking a slower but more scenic route through Vermont and New Hampshire, which I think added about two hours onto our day, but was worth it.

We drove the short distance to Vermont. Mer has a theory that Vermont is instantly beautiful when you enter it, and we were coming in on a road that we had never used before. The New York side was very pretty and pleasant, but we turned a corner and entered Vermont and the horizon was instantly filled with a tree-filled mountain and dense forests on either side of the road. It was instantly beautiful, and only as we entered Vermont. Mer’s theory is still correct.

We drove along, taken in by the scenery. We passed a sign for a house museum dedicated to the poet Robert Frost, so I turned around and went back. Sadly, it was closed on Monday. The house had been a house where Frost had lived for a few years, and it was in a very pretty spot. We climbed back in the car and continued on to Bennington, Vermont.

Bennington is known in Vermont as the place where the Bennington Battle Monument is located. The monument commemorates a Revolutionary War battle that took place in Bennington, and the monument is huge, coming in at over three hundred feet. Given that the monument is located on top of a hill, it can be seen for some distance. The monument is a large tower, sort of like the Washington Monument, but with a different stone exterior. Plus, according to a local ranger, the monument is constructed with free-standing blocks of stone that overlap, so that there is no mortar or cement used in the structure. Pretty cool.

Anyway, Mer and I had gone to college in Middlebury, Vermont, so we had been by the monument from time to time, but had never stopped. This time, we stopped, and walked the grounds and went up in the monument itself. Usually, I hate heights, but the observation area has thick walls and very narrow slits for windows, so I was able to stand it for a few minutes before having to head down.

After Bennington, we kept going east through Brattleboro, and we crossed over into New Hampshire. We stopped in the cute (but notso pretty as Vermont) town of Keene, New Hampshire, for a bathroom and bakery break. We then jumped on a New Hampshire highway and took it all the way to the bridge in Kittery, Maine.

We always take the coastal highways – Route 295 up to Brunswick, then onto Route 1. Route 1 is pretty, and takes us right into Rockland, where Mer’s grandfather, Carleton, lives. We got to Carleton’s place about 8:00. We greeted Carelton, unpacked, and then, after a short visit, walked downtown to a local restaurant, where we ate supper on the patio. Our timing was good because we’d just finished supper when the bugs started coming out, so we were able to eat more or less in peace. The evening air was wonderfully cool, and we walked back to the house, where we chatted with Carleton and then went to bed.

After a Saturday filled with a wedding and two graduation parties, we did not hurry overly to get going on our Maine vacation. We slept in the next day and packed, and finally got on the road about eleven. We drove for eight hours, stopping for lunch at a Subway just off the highway. Eight hours got us to far eastern New York. Since our travel plan for Monday was to take it easy and enjoy a scenic drive through Vermont and New Hampshire, we went a fair ways off of the New York Thruway; we stopped in the small town of Ballston Spa, where we would spend the night at the Lewis House Bed and Breakfast.

We got to the Lewis House around seven and checked into a huge multi-room suite. We then asked for recommendations for a restaurant, and the very kind owner directed us a short distance down the road to the Spa Brauhaus, a local German restaurant. We got to the the restaurant only about twenty minutes before they closed, and there was only one other party in the place, but we did not feel as if we intruded. The service was still excellent, and the waitress assured us she had plenty of closing tasks to keep her busy when she was not waiting on us. We had an excellent meal of Hungarian Goulash, and finished with decent desserts. When we went up to the bar to pay the bill, I saw a Team-in-Training jar on the counter. Team-in-Training is an organization that helps marathon runners raise money for leukemia research. I asked the barkeep about the jar, and we got to talking about his running. For the next hour. Well after the place closed. It was very friendly. He even offered to by us drinks, which we turned down, but it was very kind of him. We found out he started running small distances, and then found out about Team-in-Training and decided to try a full marathon. He had done two, and wanted to do another. He was a good conversationalist, and we left only because we had to get some sleep because we had a good-sized travel day on Monday.

We got back to the B and B a little after 10:00, and I drew Mer a bath because the bathroom had a large claw-footed bathtub. She relaxed, and I got ready for bed and read a little. It was a relaxing evening after a long day of driving, and a good start to our vacation.